


Assignments

by Vehemently



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 18:22:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/751594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vehemently/pseuds/Vehemently
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Next time, on the Muppet Show!</p><p>A gift for cofax7, on her birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Assignments

Puff of air, moist visible breath. "Well, obviously. Sam the Eagle."

A thwap, as Carter strikes Mitchell on the chest with her heavy glove. He does not even ask what for, just launches into an explanation:

"It's the eyebrows. And the deep voice. And really, if Teal'c put on a top hat and one of those little chinny-chin-chin things, he would be Uncle Sam straight up and down. Hence: Sam the Eagle."

"Teal'c has never called anybody a weirdo."

"Not out loud," Mitchell remonstrates, wincing.

Womanfully, Carter ignores his wince. They have walked four miles on his wrenched knee, and have another three to go before they hit radio range. Mitchell is professional enough that if he needs a rest, he'll ask for one. And he's been on ice enough to know that if he rests too long, he'll cool down and stiffen up. They keep walking.

"I always thought of Teal'c as Rowlf the dog," she says. "He's just got that calm to him."

Mitchell says nothing to this for about ten steps. "Yeah, okay," he muses. "Rowlf is pretty mellow."

Their noses are red and dripping, in fact, as a dog's would. Carter's hair tickles at the back of her neck, tamped down by the set of her wool cap. They keep their chins low and talk to the ground in front of them as they walk.

"Now you," Mitchell mumbles, as if he's embarrassed, as if it's something you can't say, "you're Kermit."

Carter does not pause in her stride. "Don't ask me about Miss Piggy, and I won't tell."

They bark laughter, both of them, and it echoes off the ionosphere. The ice around them, boulders and plains of it, are white and blameless and killingly cold. They never seem to end. Carter and Mitchell walk on.

"Because you're the one who knows stuff," Mitchell adds. "And you roll your eyes when people say something stupid, it's like how Kermit scrunches up his face. You know that face." He makes a gesture with his hand, fingers bent over the thumb. It doesn't look anything like a Kermit face; the fingers of his glove are too broad and too blunt.

"I do not make that face," says Carter. And then, "I thought you were going to say I was Bunsen Honeydew."

"No way," Mitchell scoffs. "Your experiments work."

"Oh." Carter rubs her nose, and considers. "Well, everybody else is easy. Daniel is obviously Bert." Mitchell nods and asks,

"Does that make me Ernie?"

Carter is quiet for a moment. She is opening her mouth to answer when Mitchell says,

"No, of course, Ernie is General O'Neill."

They smile to themselves, side by side, looking away towards the open sky. That's how they both see the rescue helicopter at the same moment: it breaches the hazy white horizon, resolves, and becomes a solid thing. It glides toward them and their smiles deepen as they raise their chins.

No need to walk. Carter plants a hand on one hip, elbow out just so, so that it's in Mitchell's way. He puts a hand on her arm and takes the weight off his painful knee. "Ow," he admits at last, with a chuckle. "So if I'm not Ernie, what muppet am I? Don't say Scooter."

Carter faces him, certain, quizzical. "You're Big Bird, silly."

Mitchell wrinkles his brows at her. "Really?"

"Yes, of course," says Sam, and that's the last word they hear as the helicopter comes in for a landing.


End file.
